


Everything

by Cyberfairie



Series: Spy Business [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:39:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberfairie/pseuds/Cyberfairie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Iron Bull is used to things in his life making sense.  He has the Chargers, his obligations to the Inquisition, his reports to the Ben-Hassrath.  Along the way he also found Dorian, and pleasing the Tevinter mage has quickly gone to the top of Bull’s favorite things to do.  </p><p>They always say you never know what you have till it’s gone.  It’s not something Bull ever spent a lot of time worrying about.  Of course he’d never thought he’d be Tal-Vashoth either.  Now everything was different and wrong, and by the time Bull figures out how to make it right his lover has disappeared from Skyhold and no one seemed to want to tell him why.  </p><p>In addition to sorting out rumor from fact, Bull will have to learn how to ask for what HE wanted if he had any hopes of getting back what was truly important to him before it was too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lies and Endings

Dorian was furious. Embarrassed. Incredulous. Heart-broken. But mostly furious. It had started simply enough, he and the Inquisitor had been enjoying a game of chess and a bottle of Antivan brandy when Dorian’s world had come screeching to a halt.

“So Bull isn’t having any after effect from the Saar-Qamek?”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, did I say it wrong? That is the name isn’t it? The poison the assassins used. I thought Bull said…” The Inquisitor’s voice dropped off as she finally looked up from the pieces on the table before them to see the confusion in Dorian’s eyes. Her expression dulled. “He didn’t tell you did he?”

Dorian flinched at the look of, oh Maker, was that pity that he saw in the Inquisitor’s eye? Fasta vass, he was an Altus of House Pavus, for Andraste’s sake. People simply did not look at him with pity for any reason. Dorian forced a lightness into his voice that he certainly didn’t feel, “I’m afraid you’ll have to be a tad more specific Evelyn, the number of things The Iron Bull doesn’t tell me could fill this room.”

By the time the Inquisitor had finished telling her tale of the Ben-Hassrath’s revenge against Bull Dorian was trembling with suppressed anger, both at his lover and at his own stupidity. He’d actually believed the oaf when he’d said the Ben-Hassrath had no interest in him. He’d actually BELIEVED. It was a testament to his years of dealing with Tevinter society that his voice remained steady and smooth. “If you’ll excuse me dearest, I believe the night has caught up with me.”

 

 

“You ready to tell me what crawled up your ass ‘Vint?”

Dorian started, his fingers curling around the stone railing that enclosed the narrow balcony off Liliana’s rookery. He shouldn’t have been surprised to hear Bull’s voice. Dorian had managed to avoid the hulking warrior for the last three days by retreating to his rooms, only emerging once it was late enough for the keep to have gone quiet for the night. It only figured his lover would seek him out at some point. “Elegant as always Bull.”

“Eh, just figured I should see if you were ready to get over this snit, or at least let me know what it was about.”

Unfortunately, three days apparently wasn't enough for Dorian to figure out how to approach this conversation. Somewhere during that time the intense anger he’d felt when speaking to Evelyn had faded to quiet hurt, but still he wasn’t sure what to say to his lover. A small part of Dorian found himself wishing that they had been in Tevinter where no conversation would have been necessary. Where it wouldn’t have been important enough to seek out a conversation.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Bull’s words cut through Dorian’s thoughts as he heard the rookery door open. “You know where to find me when you want to…”

“What are we doing Bull?” Dorian found himself spitting out in a rush. It was somehow not at all what he’d been meaning to ask and the only thing that really mattered. Turning to look at his lover he realized Bull looked as tired as Dorian felt. His eye was puffy from lack of sleep, the eyepatch covering the scar slightly askew, the shadow of whiskers on his chin longer than normal, and Dorian felt his own expression soften in response. He resisted the urge to reach out for the warrior, but barely.

“That what this is about ‘Vint?” The Bull’s words were gentle, the hint of a smile crossing his face even though Dorian could still read the wariness in his eye. “I thought we’d covered this ground already. It is whatever you need it to be.”

“But what do YOU want it to be Bull?” The confused look on the Qunari’s face would have been amusing if it hadn’t been so damn sad. “You always want to know if I trust you, but what I’m asking now is do you trust me.”

“Of course I do, why would you ask…”

“Oh, I don’t know Amatus,” Dorian hated that his voice broke on the word. Drawing a deep breath before continuing Dorian was surprised to find his anger wasn’t as far gone as he had believed. His next words were bitter. “Possibly because you haven’t deemed it important enough to tell me that your life was threatened by not one but two assassins right here in Skyhold and that I only found out about it because Evelyn THOUGHT I ALREADY KNEW.”

There was no mistaking Bull’s wince, nor his deeply indrawn breath, and Dorian could practically hear the gears working in Bull’s brain before he even started speaking. “Well, see, about that…”

“Yes, about THAT?!” Dorian growled, his anger finding its stride. “Or, perhaps you’d prefer to explain to me why Krem was in my library two weeks ago stammering out his thanks for how that entire debacle with Gatt went down. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have to tell him I’d had nothing to do with it? Oh, not that I didn’t care, or wouldn’t have told you the same thing, but you didn’t even ask.”

“Dorian,” Bull started, stumbling to a stop as a frown marred his face. “It’s not that I…Krem just assumed…”

“Don’t put this on Krem. I know that being declared Tal-Vashoth has changed things,” Dorian countered, Bull flinching despite the care Dorian put into his words, “I don’t pretend to understand. But I want to.”

“There’s nothing to understand Dorian,” the Bull stated flatly. Dorian could see the minute Bull decided to shut him out, former spy’s expression shuttering. “It is what it is.”

“It is what it is? IT IS WHAT IT IS?” Dorian sputtered, his anger rising in response to his lover’s denial. “Do you really expect me to believe that? Do you think I don’t know that you don’t sleep at night? That you lay next to me with your heart racing and your hand twitching like you expect someone to come bursting through the door at any minute? Which knowing what I know now, might be true. That I haven’t seen a real smile from you in weeks. Vishante kaffas. You demand totally honesty from me, but you give me evasion and half-truths.”

Bull straightened. “I’ve never lied to you Dorian.”

And that Dorian supposed, was that. It’s not like he thought he and Bull would be walking off into the sunset together but he had believed they at least had had SOMETHING between them. He had TRUSTED Bull, had been honest with Bull when that whole travesty with his father went down. He had swallowed his damn pride along with his sense of privacy and told Bull everything, and now he was being told what? Don’t worry about it? That it wasn’t his concern?

Dorian had to clear his throat a couple of times to speak past where his heart had lodged. With a shake of his head he finally whispered, “I’m done Bull. I was wrong. This, this just isn’t working.”

“Dorian…”

Even as he pushed past Bull to escape back into the rookery, Dorian admitted to himself he could have still been convinced to listen to what Bull had to say. That is, until he heard, “it was fun while it lasted.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I know. Bull came off badly here but stick with him. It's hard having everything you ever thought you knew questioned all at once. He'll come around, I promise. Even if it requires a shoe to the butt.
> 
> Most of this is written already and will be posted a bit every day or so as I edit. It's looking to be about 10-11 chapters at this point.


	2. A New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dorian realizes he has...friends?!  
> And life must continue.

The next week was…awkward. As content as Dorian had been to remain in seclusion while he worked his way through his anger at Bull, once the entire situation was resolved he refused to hide. The first couple of days had passed normally enough, cloistered in his nook, surrounded by his research. He even managed to end up in his room in the evening. Admittedly rather later than normal, and without his customary stop by the tavern, but still it was better than sleeping in a chair.

  
All in all things were continuing remarkably unchanged from how they were before he and Bull had started, which is why Dorian paid no special attention when Cullen stopped by his nook to request a game of chess.

  
Nor the next day when Madame Vivienne sought out his advice with a particularly complicated Tevene spell, then insisted he stay to join her for a drink.

  
He did however begin to get suspicious when the Inquisitor asked for his opinion on the Royal Elfroot she had transplanted in the garden. He was quite certain he had never claimed any knowledge of herbalism.

  
It would seem news had gotten round that he and Bull were no longer, well, whatever they were. Which would have been mortifying if not for the fact that Dorian actually found himself somewhat pleased to find that he had people who cared what he was feeling. Thankfully not enough that they actually asked about Bull, but the distraction was pleasant.

  
It was in that spirit of friendship that Dorian now found himself headed toward the tavern he had studiously avoided for over a week. When Varric had first stuck his head up the stairs to ask Dorian to join him for a drink Dorian had thought they would sit at the table Varric had commandeered just inside the great hall. Dorian was already taking a mental inventory of the Inquisitor’s liquor selections to determine what the night called for when he realized the dwarf was leading him out into the courtyard.

  
Reaching the foot of the stairs, Dorian hesitated. “Now Varric, I don’t think…”

  
“Sometimes it’s better that way Sparkler,” Varric drawled, coming to a stop himself a few feet beyond the mage and looking back with something approaching sympathy. “It’s not going to get any easier.”

  
“Yes, well,” Dorian blustered, squaring his shoulders clearing his throat as his mind raced for an excuse. “I just had something finer in mind than that swill Cabot serves.”

  
“You mean that Ferelden ale you protest so much?”

  
“It IS simply horrible.”

  
Varric chuckled at the familiar argument before turning serious again. “Your call Dorian, I just thought you might want an opportunity to get things back to normal. Despite the quality of the ale.”

  
Dorian sighed. The blasted dwarf was right. If he didn’t get this over with he might never find the courage to step foot in the Herald’s Rest again. He had been the one to end things after all, it would hardly do to continue slinking around as if he were the injured party. “Alright Varric, let’s get this over with. But only because I’m afraid of who the Inquisitor will send if you don’t succeed.”

  
“Good call Sparkler,” Varric chuckled, gesturing with his hand for Dorian to proceed him. “I’m pretty sure Cassandra was next on the list.”

  
“Perish the thought,” Dorian said with a shudder, reaching to open the door to the bar.

  
Varric’s bark of laughter echoed through the surprisingly subdued interior and Dorian found himself the unwelcome center of attention for everyone in the tavern. Of course, the one time he’d rather just slip into a corner and hide, but, it was done now, nothing to do about it. Holding his head high Dorian forced his feet to follow a familiar path to the bar that stretched the length of the tavern. Deliberately keeping his focus on the shelf of dubious spirits behind Cabot’s back he refused to look toward the shadowed alcove he knew would hold the Chargers, and no doubt Bull.

  
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Varric muttered, a sheepish grin on his face as he nudged Dorian’s arm with his shoulder once they’d taken a seat at the bar.

  
“Could have been worse,” Dorian replied, then choked out a small laugh. “I’m not really sure how, but it could have been.”

“Well, Sera didn’t fall on our heads, or cause anything else to fall on our heads.”

  
“Kaffas, don’t go inviting trouble,” Dorian sputtered, turning to look around the room for the blond haired menace.

  
“Well, you know who was on the Inquisitor’s list after Cassandra,” Varric grinned, turning his attention to the tankard Cabot dropped in front of him.

Dorian didn’t bother to hide his shudder, pausing to take a swallow of his own drink before whispering, “Andraste save me from the Inquisitor’s well meaning ‘help’.”

  
A companionable silence fell over the two men, and Dorian made the mistake of thinking to himself that perhaps this hadn’t been such a bad idea. Which was, of course, why the next thing he heard was Iron Bull’s laughter ringing out through the tavern, instinct turning his head in the direction of the Chargers before he could tell himself it was a bad idea.

  
Then, Dorian couldn’t make himself look away. His hand came up to rub his chest as his heart clenched. Funny, he thought idly as his gaze wandered from Charger to Charger until it finally settled somewhere around his ex-lover’s shoulder, he hadn’t believed he’d had any heart left to break. Apparently just something else he’d been wrong about, he realized as he took in the buxom red-head bouncing happily on Bull’s knee, his bad one at that. Dorian frowned as he watched Bulls’ big meaty hands wrap around the woman’s waist while she wound her arms around his neck. Pride demanded he look up then and meet the warrior’s gaze, forcing a small smile to his lips and nodding slightly before returning his attention to his drink.

  
“Damn Sparkler, I’m…”

  
“Venhedis,” Dorian snarled. “I swear Varric if the next word out of your mouth is ‘sorry’ I’ll set fire to Bianca.”

  
Varric gasped, but recovered quickly. “I was just going to say I believe the Inquisitor has a new bottle of SunBlonde Vint-1 tucked away in that cellar of hers that I’m sure she’ll never miss.

“Now that may be the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Dorian chuckled, telling himself he wasn’t fleeing. It was called a strategic withdrawal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting Ch. 3 immediately before Bull finds himself lynched...


	3. Drinks with a Side of Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doesn't the title say it all?

Well shit. Bull’s hands were already lifting Beth off his lap as he watched Varric and Dorian walk out of the tavern. The ‘Vint’s shoulders were straight, and carried so much tension Bull half expected them to snap. The mage’s head angled in his typical proud way, but there had been no mistaking the pain he’d seen on Dorian's face when they’d made eye contact and damn if that smile hadn’t been the saddest thing Bull had ever seen.

There was no reason for him to feel guilty, hell, it’s not like he’d been the one to end things with the ‘Vint. Then again, he hadn’t been the one asking Beth to plop herself down on his knee either. His bad knee by the way, he thought with a grimace. 

“’s matter Bull?” Beth whispered seductively in his ear, her hand running down his horn to scratch lightly at the base. “Thought you were free to enjoy other distractions again.”

“Free doesn’t mean interested Beth,” Bull drawled, pulling her arms away from him again before rising.

He didn’t need to hear her annoyed huff to know he’d been rude, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Waving a hand toward the Chargers Bull echoed their good nights before slowly climbing the stairs.

The room was cold when he entered, and he spent several long moments starting the fire before dropping onto the edge of the bed and rubbing at his sore knee. His hands moving from ingrained habit to the buckles that held his brace, Bull’s mind helpfully reminded him that that was another thing he missed about the ‘Vint. Once Dorian had known how much his knee bothered him he had always taken care to sit on the other side of Bull. Even on those nights when they’d both had too much to drink and Bull had gotten grabby the slippery mage had somehow managed to end up sitting on his good knee.

“Great,” Bull grumbled to himself as he dropped his brace to the floor and flopped back onto the bed, toeing his boots off. “Might as well build a shrine. A fucking tribute to lost…well, whatever.”

He knew exactly what ‘whatever’ was, it just wouldn’t do to say it aloud. He was The Iron Fucking Bull. He might be Tal-Vashoth now but that didn’t change the fact that Qunari didn’t do love. They fought, they conquered, they fucked. And if somehow he’d come to care for the prickly mage that knew him well enough to keep off his bad knee, and somehow always woke up enough to heat the water in Bull’s wash basin in the morning even though he’d go right back to sleep, and who had always known when Bull was running out of horn balm and made sure he had more, well that wasn’t love. 

It couldn’t be. 

Because that would mean Bull had fucked up something else in his life he didn’t know how to fix and he was too damn tired and drunk tonight to figure it out. Tomorrow would take care of itself.


	4. Of Hangovers and Spies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dorian proves he's more than just a pretty face.

Dorian pulled the hood up over his head, then slipped back to hug the shadowed corner of the balcony. It paid to be cautious, though with the sun yet to come over the horizon, he doubts anyone would think look for him here. His reputation as a late riser standing him in good stead today.

  
Which is a good thing, since it’s embarrassing enough for him to admit to himself his utter inability to let Bull leave without watching him go, without chancing someone else commenting on it. It’s not that he thinks the Inquisitor’s mission to Crestwood is that dangerous, though there had been rumors of a dragon when they last visited in search of the Grey Warden. Instead, it is Dorian that wonders if he’ll ever see the walls of Skyhold again. A tad melodramatic perhaps, but there is just enough truth to the thought to allow Dorian’s need to see Bull to win out over pride, even if it is from a distance.

  
Dorian frowns as he watches Bull reach down to rub his knee once his horse blocks him from view of the rest of the party, his heavy sigh visible to Dorian even from this distance. Stubborn ox, he had probably been ignoring his brace again. He had a tendency to do that when he wasn’t on the road. Bull swore he didn’t need it if he wasn’t fighting, but Dorian knew the infuriating man just hated having to admit a liability.

  
Like he wouldn’t be a greater liability when he couldn’t get off that damn monster of a horse he rode at the end of the day. Snorting softly, Dorian allowed himself one more moment to absorb the sight of his ex-lover. His silver skin shining in the fading moonlight, forming a stark contrast to the jet black stallion he rode. The battle axe he wore strapped to his back sharpened and polished to a mirror’s edge. He really was magnificent, Dorian acknowledged with a sad smile before turning to reenter the keep. He had wasted enough time.

 

 

“Are they away then?” Leliana’s voice stopped him at the top of the stairs. Venhedis, did that woman never sleep?

  
Dorian drew the hood to his cloak down, settling it to drape over his left shoulder with practiced ease before turning back to face the spymaster. “They are. I should appreciate word when they are through Gherlen’s Pass.”

  
“Certainly,” Leliana allowed with a tilt of her head. “Do you require anything else at this time?”

  
“No, though I’m certain if that changes your ravens shall let you know before I know myself.”

  
Leliana’s chirp of laughter forced a small smile to Dorian’s lips, her eyes twinkling with mischief before sobering. “I will do my best to keep you informed of any changes Lord Dorian, but even I cannot be assured of the Ben-Hassrath’s final moves. Do be careful.”

  
“Why my dear lady, I had no idea you cared,” Dorian drawled, his lip twitching up slightly before his voice took on a deadly serious tone. “As for their final moves, that is why I am going is it not? Failure is not an option, not when they threaten someone important to me.”

 

He ignored the assessing look on the spymaster’s face, certain he had overplayed his hand. Oh well, with the Inquisitor gone so too was any need for subtlety.

  
And subtle or not, this mattered, he admitted to himself as he opened the door to his room, perhaps more than anything he’d ever done. Knowing that he wouldn’t hear from Leliana until late afternoon Dorian stoked the fire with a twist of his wrist, waiting for warmth to suffuse the room before tossing his cloak in the direction of the bed and throwing himself onto one of the overstuffed chairs before the blaze. Staring into the scarlet and gold flames he allowed his mind to drift back to the start of this new madness, three days prior.

 

 

It had been the morning after his and Varric’s hasty retreat from the Herald’s Rest. Or rather, the afternoon after since he and Varric had occupied themselves until the early morning hours with the promised bottle of Sun Blonde Vint-1. It had been an enjoyable evening but the headache that followed had sent him in search of the Inquisitor. A dabbling alchemist, she had developed a tonic since arriving at Skyhold that had proven very successful in removing the negative effects of over-indulgence.

  
Looking back on it he suppose he should have knocked, but then again, it wasn’t as if her door had been locked and by now it wasn’t unheard of for Dorian to enter her private quarters unannounced. The pounding in his head had made him quieter than normal, the mere suggestion of his boots scuffing against the stone of her entry stairwell had made him cringe, which explained how he was able to access the inner stairwell without alerting either woman to his presence.

  
“I believe the threat to be creditable Inquisitor.” Leliana’s voice stilled Dorian’s steps just inside the door which he eased shut without sound, uncertain if he should be headed back out the way he came.

  
He heard a familiar tsking sound Evelyn made when she was irritated before she answered, “It’s not that I doubt you Leliana, it’s just that Bull seemed so certain the Ben-Hassrath were through with him.”

  
“It is possible they have decided to escalate matters because of the Inquisition’s involvement,” Leliana theorized. “Perhaps waiting until all of Bull’s prior contacts had been replaced. It is equally possible that he is aware of the threat but unwilling to acknowledge it.”

“You believe he would bring assassins to Skyhold? AGAIN? Without warning me?” Evelyn’s tsking escalated.

  
“It is a possibility Inquisitor. You know him better than anyone…”

  
“After last time he wouldn’t dare,” Evelyn growled, but her words sounding uncertain even to Dorian.

  
“I believe you are correct dearest,” Dorian found himself saying, giving up his hiding spot in favor of reaching the top of the stairs. Maker only knew why Dorian was defending his ex-lover, but he wasn’t lying. He truly believed Bull had learned that lesson. Of course that didn’t preclude the lummox from making some new grand mistake. “However, if he believed he could manipulate the situation to occur OUTSIDE of Skyhold.”

  
“Andraste’s flaming knickers,” Evelyn groaned, shifting to rest her hip against the corner of her desk before glaring at Dorian. “Maker protect me from my own companions. Apparently each of you is determined to be the death of me rather than simply allow Corphyeus to do the job.”

  
“Don’t include me in that characterization dearest,” Dorian placated. “I seem to remember being the picture of compliance during our journey to Redcliff.”

  
The Inquisitor’s snort was most unladylike. “If you call complaining, cursing your father and looking for an escape route the entire way docile.”

  
“Yes, well. I was there, you were there, the event occurred,” Dorian drawled, waving his hand lazily in the air. He waited for Evelyn to stop snorting again before continuing. “Now, any chance you could fill me in on exactly what type of retribution the Ben-Hassrath is planning.”

  
It was Leliana’s turn to sigh, waiting for the Inquisitor's nod before answering.   “I only wish we knew for certain. After the handling of the assassins last month the Inquisitor suggested Bull reach out to his old contacts. He believed that it was just a matter of time before those channels were severed, but he had hoped word had not yet reached Par Vollen of the dreadnaught’s destruction. I have had my people watching them ever since and, while I am still waiting to hear from two of my agents, it would seem all of Bull’s contacts were removed simultaneously.”

  
“Assassinated?”

  
“Apparently. More disturbing however, is that the three Qunari spies in Bull’s network seem to have been replaced with elves.”

  
“Viddathari,” Dorian whispered, his fingers tapping against his lips as his mind worked before he clarified for the Inquisitor who had resumed her tsking. “Technically any elf, human or dwarf who has been converted to the Qun is viddathari. In this case most likely former Tevinter slaves, saved and re-educated.”

  
“Exactly.”

  
“I don’t understand,” Evelyn’s voice cut in. “Why would that matter?”

  
Dorian lifted a brow in Leliana’s direction, and when she motioned with her hand he fielded the question. “The Ben-Hassrath tend to favor viddathari, over Qunari, in the south because they fit in. Those who have been ‘liberated’ from Tevinter are preferred as they are believed to be more loyal. Still, to kill born Qunari and replace them with viddathari, is almost unheard of. The simplest explanation is that they were believed to be loyal to Iron Bull. That would imply the Ben-Hassrath has further plans for him.” Dorian resumed tapping the tips of his fingers on his lower lip before continuing, “Any chance they weren’t killed?”

  
“It is a possibility, no bodies have been recovered,” Leliana admitted, a sly grin lightening her features as she realized what Dorian was thinking. “I do believe, Lord Dorian that you have been wasted out on missions with the Inquisitor.”

  
“Yes, well, in Tevinter society second guessing the Qunari was a popular after dinner game.”

  
“And me fresh out of port,” Evelyn quipped. “I do have a nice Antivan brandy I could be persuaded to part with if you two would like to clue me in.”

  
Resting is hip against the banister to his left Dorian steepled his fingers together then tapped them on his lower lip as he fit the information he’d been given into his knowledge of Qunari tactics. Really, there was only one likely outcome and judging from the look on the Leliana’s face, she had drawn the same conclusion.

  
“The Ben-Hassrath are most likely holding the missing Qunari. They’ll be used to bait a trap for Bull. He has, after all, gained quite a reputation for being protective. Something the Ben-Hassrath saw first-hand when he chose to become Tal-Vashoth rather than sacrifice the Chargers. They made the changes sweeping to ensure Bull found out about it, the only question is where. I assume we have a list of the contacts.”

  
‘Of course,” Leliana responded, the scowl on her face doing nothing to hide the respect Dorian saw shining in her eyes. Handing him the top parchment from her stack she waited for him to scan the list before outlining her own thoughts. “While the Ben-Hassrath could use any of these locations, I think Val Royeaux and Halamshiral to be less likely due to their higher populations. The chance of discover is simply too great. I am still waiting to hear from my contacts in Ghislain and Val Chevin but similarly I doubt those locations because of their distance from Skyhold. No, if I were leading this it would be the contact in Jader, Verchiel, or Montsimmard.”

 

“I would agree with that assessment,” Dorian admitted, handing the paper back to Leliana. “How long before Bull finds out about all this?”

  
“That would depend entirely on how long our Inquisitor wishes him to be out of the loop.” The grin that crossed Leliana’s face was chilling, and thankfully fleeting, as she nodded her head toward the Inquisitor. Dorian had no doubt the spymaster was as good as her word.

  
“We can’t keep him in the dark forever,” Evelyn sighed. “And the minute we tell him he’ll insist on going, alone of course.”

  
“I can keep my agents on him.”

  
Evelyn snorted. “No. Not that I doubt your abilities Leliana, but Qun or not Bull is a spy. I’m not sure your agents are going to be able to keep eyes on him if he wants to disappear.”

  
“I suppose I could always…”

  
“I’ll do it.” Dorian would have laughed at the way the two women’s heads swiveled to stare at him if their twin looks of shock hadn’t been so insulting. “What? We’ve already established I have a more than passing knowledge of the Qunari and seriously, who would expect the Inquisition to send a Tevinter mage after a bunch of Ben-Hassrath spies.”

  
Leliana pursed her lips and regarded Dorian critically. “The idea has merit Inquisitor.”

  
“Why would you…” Evelyn started, only to stumble to a stop at Dorian’s dark look. “Ok, ok, forget I asked that. But what makes you think Bull would stand for this?”

  
Why would he care? The question almost slipped from Dorian’s lips but he knew that was unworthy. Despite the fact that he and Bull’s, for lack of a better word, relationship, was over, he had no doubt that the Bull would object to this plan. Which is why it was better for him not to know. “You need to take him on a mission dearest. Once he is out of the way, somewhere NOT in Orlais preferably, I’ll be free to follow up on our leads.”

  
Leliana gave him that approving look again that Dorian doubts many people see, but Evelyn was still looking doubtful. “When he finds out he’s going to furious Dorian.”

  
Dorian just shrugged.  “What can he do? We were through anyway.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little action to cut through the angst. I have to admit that this more the way I always think of Dorian. He may enjoy being a pampered mage but underneath is a man strong enough to leave Tevinter with nothing but the strength of his convictions. I hope you enjoy!


	5. The Qun and Other Fun Bedtime Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tell us how you really feel Inquisitor.

“It was fun while it lasted.”

Yeah, definitely not one of his better moments.  Bull could admit that to himself now even if it had seemed the best response at the time.  He had told the ‘Vint it was his choice after all, it’s not like he could have changed his mind at the last moment and asked him to stay.

Frowning at the direction of his thoughts, Bull flipped his axe over and applied the sharpening stone to the opposite side of the blade.  It had been two weeks since that late night confrontation and Bull still didn’t know where he’d gone wrong.  He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he’d approached Dorian that night but it sure as hell wasn’t for the mage to go all bristly like a quillback, his tongue twice as deadly.

Still, he supposed the blasted ‘Vint had a point.  It wasn’t that Bull set out to keep the assassination attempt from Dorian, it’s just that, just that…fuck.  Yeah, he had.  But it’s not like he told the Chargers either.  What was the point in worrying them?  The problem had been handled.

“Sharp enough ‘innit?” Sera’s amused voice cut through Bull’s thoughts as he looked up to find the elf grinning at him from across the campfire.  “Less you plan on using it as a spear. Maybe that’s it, I hear you really know how to…”

“SERA!”

“I’m just sayin’…”

“We all know what you’re saying Sera,” the Boss groaned, her lips curling in a wicked smile before she continued, “you know, for someone who claims to not be interested in ‘spears’ you sure seem to spend a lot of time talking about…”

“EWWWWWW,” Sera screeched, bounding to her feet and spinning in several tight, distraught circles before stomping away from the fire.  “That’s just….ewwwwwww.  First watch.  I call first watch.”

“Thank you Inquisitor,” Solas acknowledged with a small nod of his head.  “If you’ll excuse me…”

“Goodnight Solas.”

 

Sighing softly Bull agreed the petite rogue had been right about one thing, any more edge to his blade would make it dull.  Stowing his sharpening stone in his pack Bull looked up as the Inquisitor crouched down next to him.

“You know I’m here if you need to talk Bull.”

“Appreciate that Boss.”

Dropping onto the bedroll beside him the Inquisitor chuckled before nudging his shoulder with her own.  “Amazing how that managed to sound like ‘none of your damn business Boss’.”

Bull snorted, shaking his own head carefully before allowing himself to lean lightly against the smaller woman.  “Not exactly.  Just not sure what there is to talk about.  Dorian’s a good guy.  I made him happy, then I didn’t. Now it’s done.”

“Thanks Bull, but if I’d wanted to know Dorian’s side of things I’d have asked him.  I asked if YOU needed to talk.”

Dorian’s face the way he’d looked on Leliana’s balcony flashed through Bull’s mind.  His proud face so resigned, as if he’d known already what Bull’s answer was going to be before he asked, “What do YOU want it to be Bull?”

Frustration bubbled out of Bull on a growl.  What was it with these humans?  You.  You.  _YOU_.  What difference did what he wanted make?  It wasn’t about him.  He protected those he was supposed to protect.  He killed those he was supposed to kill.  He took care of those he had promised to take care of.  “Asit tal-eb.”

“Huh? What does that mean Bull?”

Bull startled at the sound of her voice, not even realizing he had spoken aloud.  “Asit tal-eb.  It is to be.  The Qun teaches that everything has a nature and must be true to that nature for the whole to be in balance. The Tamassrans assign us our roles in society based on it. It's taught that to fight against your nature is to fight against yourself which causes unbalance with the whole.”

“Andraste’s knickers Bull,” Evelyn finally whispered, “the more I learn about this religion of yours the more relieved I am you’re Tal-Vashoth.”

Bull couldn’t help the growl that erupted from him, although the back of the Evelyn’s hand slapping his chest put an end to it.  “You don’t understand Boss.”

“Oh, I understand Bull,” Evelyn hissed, her ferocity making Bull’s brow arch.  “You’re raised from the time you’re a child to believe that you need to be what the Qun says you need to be.  That your only concern is what they say should concern you.  Your only place to be where they send you.  Eliminate the distraction of mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, _choice_.  Then wrap it all up with a pretty bow of guilt if you ever dare to want something for yourself.  Fuck that Bull.  Fuck that and fuck the Qun.  You’re better off without it.”

Her words echoed through Bull’s brain, his brow furrowing as he turned his attention back to the fire, silence falling over the campsite.  It couldn’t be both that easy and that complicated at the same time could it?  Bull wasn’t sure how long they sat there together but when Evelyn finally moved he noticed the fire had died down to embers.  The Boss stood, bending down to press a kiss to Bull’s forehead and he was careful not to move least she get hit by a horn. 

“Believe in the Qun, don’t believe in the Qun.  Be with Dorian, don’t be with Dorian.  I don’t care Bull, just make sure it’s what YOU want.”

 

Bull ran the Inquisitor's words through his mind long after the Boss had served her watch shift and almost all the way through his own.  He wanted to deny her dismissal of everything the Qun taught but the more he thought about it the more he realized she was right.  It stung just how right she was.  Even the things he thought he’d done on his own, turning himself in to the re-educators, forming the Chargers, joining the Inquisition.  Still, at their core, just more dictates of the Qun and his superiors.

It might have broken him then, to realize how closely he’d actually followed the Qun even while he boasted of skirting its’ edges, but for two things.  First, no matter how the Chargers had formed, they were his family now and Bull would let nothing take them away from him. 

And second, Dorian.  Because damn if that prickly, proud fucking ‘Vint hadn’t hollowed himself out a space in Bull’s heart right alongside the Chargers.

Shit.

“It was fun while it lasted.”

How in the hell was he going to fix this?


	6. Cremisius Gains A Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dorian discovers this spy business is harder than it seems.

“Dorian Aclassi, representing Magister Erimond. I was told you were the man to see about Master Erimond’s ships being given berth.” Dorian bowed slightly.

  
“Name’s Blakely,” the human before Dorian grunted. Not bothering to rise from his seat behind the desk. “Don’t know as I’ve heard of a Magister Erimond before.”

  
Yes, well, you probably wouldn’t since he’s resting in Skyhold’s dungeon, is what Dorian wanted to say. Precisely why he’d picked the man. Instead, Dorian nodded his head sharply as if agreeing with him. “We don’t usually do business this far south, but the option for ‘servants’ has gotten a little dry in the Free Marches. Something to do with that business in Kirkwall. Master Erimond thought Ferelden might be more accommodating.”

  
“Now see here, we run a respectable port…”

  
“Yes, yes, of course. Not like we would start recruiting here in town. I was under the belief that the old Harbor Master understood how important ‘servants’ are to Tevinter. And with the border to Ferelden so close. Perhaps you could just tell me where he has been assigned,” Dorian encouraged, slipping one hand into his trousers and pulling out a gold coin that he walked across his knuckles.

  
Blakely’s eyes watched the coin track back and forth, frowning as the coin disappeared back into Dorian’s pocket. “Can’t say where the old Harbor Master went but I’m sure that we can come to an understanding. Didn’t realize how…motivated…your Magister Erimond was. Sit, we’ll work something out.”

 

 

Dorian slammed the door to his rented room shut and leaned heavily against it, a shudder working its way through his body. Two hours in that snake Blakely’s company had left Dorian feeling like he needed to bathe. Repeatedly. With lye. Only the fact that the man seemed to have bought Dorian’s cover story made the effort worth it.

  
Looking out the window at the sun dropping over the horizon Dorian hurried toward the bed, reaching under the thin straw mattress and exhaling in relief when his fingers closed around his staff. It had unnerved him to leave it here at the mercy of the tavern keepers, but he had decided during his journey from Skyhold that it hardly made sense to come strutting in using his family name. Not that is was entirely uncommon for a Tevinter mage to be the servant, or slave, of a Magister, but it certainly would have called more attention to him. Appearing Soporati had been the easier choice, even if it did leave him wearing such abominable clothes and limited to casting spells by hand.

  
Dorian settled for a quick wash of his face and hands in the basin as he waited for twilight to settle into true dark before creeping down the back stairs of the tavern. Pausing to make sure the alleyway was deserted, Dorian brushed up the hood of his cloak before setting out into the night.

That blasted Blakely may not have been of any assistance, but one of the local fishermen had been able to point Dorian toward the prior harbor master’s home when he had stopped to discuss the days catch with them earlier. Dorian wasn't entirely certain the Qunari's removal had actually had anything to do with Bull.  According to the fishermen, taking his share of their catch before their boats had been allowed to dock had been the least of his crimes. Slaving, extortion, profit skimming, the Qunari had certainly been calling lot of attention to himself for a spy.

  
Not that it mattered now of course, Dorian chided himself as he snuck through the shadows to climb the stairs to the second floor room silently. Finding the door unlocked wasn’t a surprise, but finding the room trashed was.  Dorian had begun to think the Qunari had left of his own volition.  But  there had definitely been a struggle here, one that he would bet had occurred during the evening hours since the two rooms the Qunari had claimed were over the blacksmith’s shop. Not many people around to hear a disturbance once the sun set.

  
Assuring himself that he was alone in the room, Dorian summoned a small ball of white fire, balancing it on his palm as he searched through the destroyed room. It was neither strong enough to set fire to anything nor bright enough to be seen by outside parties, but provided enough light to determine that there was nothing of value left here. It also failed to highlight the tell-tale glow of blood so either the Ben-Hassrath were very clean or the agent could still be alive.

  
Stepping around the collapsed table Dorian almost missed the small door built into the edge of the half wall dividing the living quarters from the bathing area. Using his gloved hand to pull on the catch he found a small storage area, obviously meant for cleaning supplies. Soap, brush, bucket, mop. He was just about to dismiss it and move on when his white fire caught a shimmer of silver thread tucked in with the mop. Pulling the mop head out Dorian separated the strands to find a swatch of blue fabric, embroidered with a silver griffin. Fasta Vass, more signs of Grey Wardens, had they not dealt with enough of them in the Western Approach? Dorian had a bad feeling about this.

Performing a thorough search on the rest of the apartment turned up nothing of value other than a map of the Jader area, some sort of cave system marked just down the coast from town proper. It would be worth a look in the morning, after which Dorian would be pleased to leave this place.  Careful to leave the apartment the same way he’d found it Dorian retraced his steps, working his way back through the quiet town.

He had just entered his rented room, locking the door behind him, when someone knocked.  Hastily shoving his staff back under the bed, throwing his cloak in the corner over a trunk and toeing off his boots before the fire Dorian returned to the door and called through it. “Yes.”

  
“Ser Aclassi?  It’s Blakey.  I have some merchandise I believe might interest you.”

  
Merchandise? Dorian’s brain scrambled. What possible merchandise could the… “Venhedis.”

  
Reversing the lock, Dorian allowed himself a moment’s hope that perhaps the fool had simply found himself with one too many ladies of the evening. Or perhaps he had seen through Dorian’s alias after all and was here to kill him. Either option was something Dorian could easily resolve before submitting to the sleep he desperately needed. Those hopes were dashed when he opened the door and Blakely strutted in dragging the chains for five young elven slaves. Three girls, two boys, all filthy and bone thin, none of them looked older than fifteen.

  
When they had all entered the room Dorian slammed the door quickly behind them, causing them all to jump and shriek loudly in Elvish as they held tight to one another. “See here Blakely, what is the meaning of this?”

  
“Found this lot in the old Harbor Master's hold.  Not certain which ship was supposed to pick them up but from what little I can gain from them it is rather late. I thought perhaps your Master could be encouraged to take them off my hands.”

  
“Blakely,” Dorian started with a sigh that didn’t have to be faked. “I’m traveling by horse to Denerim where I’m to meet my Master’s ship. I simply don’t have the facilities to move these people.”

  
“But it may be months before another ship such as yours comes to harbor. What am to do with them in the meantime? This would look very bad to the town, and on me. Perhaps I can arrange for you to borrow a wagon, it would make things simpler no? I would of course be in your debt on future encounters.”

  
“Very well,” Dorian acquiesced, wondering just what game the spy was playing. Still, no self-respecting slaver would look a gift horse in the mouth. “I’ll take them off your hands now for a share of the profit when they reach Tevinter. I will give you the gold to acquire a wagon, please make sure it is something that will actually reach Denerim. I wish to leave by midday tomorrow.”

  
“That is agreeable Ser Aclassi. I believe your Master and I will have years of profitable ventures.”

  
Dorian very much doubted that. As soon as the situation involving Bull was over Dorian was coming back to incinerate the fool, find some way to bring him back and do it again. Dorian took care to mask his fury with indifference.  “Yes, Yes, very well. For now you must take these things with you. I won’t have them cluttering up my room. You may drop them off tomorrow after you acquire the wagon. Clean them, and for Andraste’s sake feed them, I don’t need them dropping dead on me.”

  
“Of course ser, of course. Come, leave Ser Aclassi alone.”

  
Barely waiting for the crowd to exit before slamming the door shut Dorian slid right to the floor. Fasta vass, if Bull could see him right now he’d never hear the end of it. The scion of House Pavus masquerading as a Sporati in service to a Venatori Magister making deals for slaves with a Ben-Hassrath spy. “Kaffas, what have I gotten myself into Bull?”

 

 

The next morning, standing in the cave that had been marked on the Qunari spy’s map, Dorian was reminded again why he hated this town. Of course he’d known what to expect the second he stepping off the beach, the smell was unmistakable. But even that couldn’t have begun to convey the horror of what Dorian had found further on. Nor did the word torture describe this, this atrocity. The only reason Dorian knew he had found the missing spy was that the man’s horns were still attached to his skull. That was about the only thing they had left, the remainder of the man’s skin having been flayed off in such a precise way Dorian would have assumed blood magic involved if the weapons used hadn’t been left sunk deep into the man’s chest. The eyes and tongue removed, apparently with a heated instrument judging by the scarring.

  
Messy business, yet surprisingly effective. Or at least it would have been if Bull had been the one to find the remains. As it was Dorian was simply sure he wouldn’t be sleeping anytime in the next few days. Forcing himself forward, Dorian noted with relief that his feet weren’t sticking to the copious amounts of blood. That, combined with what Dorian knew of the man’s disappearance from Leliana’s report led him to believe that the torture had been completed some four or five days ago.

  
When a quick mind blast pushed at the body didn’t trigger any traps Dorian approached and bent to retrieve the pair of daggers from the man’s chest. They had obviously been left for a reason, one Dorian was uncertain of but he was certain the spymaster…

  
“VENHEDIS!!!” Dorian’s shout was accompanied by his jumping back far enough to smack his head on the side of the cave. Fasta vass, he couldn’t have seen what he’d thought he’d seen, he grumbled to himself as he rubbed his head. Steadying his nerves he used the end of his staff to nudge the Qunari spy’s body over, sighing heavily when it indeed uncovered a second body.

  
Tucking the daggers he had momentarily forgotten he held into the bag at his side Dorian bent to observe the newest victim. Human, female, she would have been a pretty thing if not for the gaping wound that slit her from ear to ear. No sign of torture, thank Andraste. Probably just someone who got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dorian was about to dismiss the poor woman’s presence when he caught sight of the black length of cloth wrapped tightly around the woman’s left wrist. Or, more precisely, the two raven feathers that were barely visible, tucked tightly into the fabric.

  
“Kaffas. I hope you aren’t who I think you are,” Dorian whispered, his mind solemnly reminding him of Leliana’s two missing agents. Dorian just stared at the woman for the longest time, trying to tell himself he didn’t have time for this. He had a dead Ben-Hassrath agent, an unexplained Grey Warden insignia and five elven slaves to deal with. Not to mention the rising tide which would shortly wipe away access to this cave until tomorrow. She was dead, there was nothing more to be done for her now.

  
With a resigned sigh Dorian bent to pull the body over his shoulder before heading out of the cave.

  
This spy business was going to be the death of him. 


	7. Of Dragons and Horn Balm

Two days later Bull still wasn’t sure how he was going to fix things with Dorian. What he was sure of was that he wanted to. Badly. He didn’t know if what he was feeling was love, it’s not as if he’d had a lot of experience with the emotion, but he knew that the longer he spent away from the haughty mage the more he missed him. And not just the sex either. Not that he wouldn’t like to see Dorian spread out beneath him right now, those expressive eyes of his half-lidded and sated, that inviting smirk he had right before he said something that was guaranteed to make Bull want to ravage him all over again.

But mostly he wanted to watch the ‘Vint get dressed, the morning light shining through the hole in Bull’s roof, the way Dorian’s fingers slipped nimbly over those buckles and straps. The way Dorian looked while he slept, his hair tousled, a soft snore that he would deny on waking but that never failed to make Bull smile. The way…

“Bull and Dorian sittin’ in a tree,” Sera snickered, jumping onto Bull’s back to tickle one of his ears with the fletching of an arrow.

“Leave Bull alone Sera,” Evelyn chided, no heat in her words.

“Not my fault he makes that big calf eye,” Sera countered, using Bull’s horns to pull herself up until she could look at him upside-down over the top of his head, her stomach resting between his horns. “Tama-whatevers teach you that look?”

“Tamassrans, and no,” Bull correctly drily. “But long as you’re up there, mind scratching the base of my left horn? Getting a little dry.”

“What? Running out of that slimy stuff His Excellency makes ya?” Sera asked, scratching the horn in question anyway.

“SERA!”

“What? Not like it’s some big secret, yeah? So His Excellency gets his fancy hands dirty sometimes. Makes him less like a…”

Sera broke off with a yelp as an arrow flew past her cheek, dropping off Bull’s back so he had room to pull out his axe. Bull had only a moment to think he’d missed something important before he was knee-deep in Venatori. Damn, but he liked his job some days.

 

 

The next time the Bull had time to think about Sera’s cryptic comment was around the campfire that night. After the Venatori it had been highway men, who had managed to startle a small herd of druffalo. Then the Inquisitior had found that astrarium, which hadn’t been all bad because it had led to them finding the dragon. And what a dragon! All purple and bronze in the setting sun, he had of course wanted to kill it at once but Boss had refused with night falling.

But now that Bull  had time to think he realized just how odd it had been earlier for the Inquisitor to interrupt Sera’s muttering at all. Granted the Boss was always refereeing some inappropriate conversation that included the petite rogue, but Bull failed to see just how horn balm qualified in the inappropriate category.

Taking a cloth to his axe, Bull focused on rubbing away dried blood as he asked casually, “So, Sera, what did you mean earlier when you said the ‘Vint made my horn balm? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure he gets it from the Quartermaster.”

Sera looked up from where she was sharpening her daggers and giggled manically. “You mean Ser Morris? That ponce? Blighter wouldn’t know horn balm from udder cream.”

“SERA!” Evelyn hissed.

There she went, interrupting again.  “What am I not getting Boss?”

The Inquisitor had the grace to blush, stammering cutely as Bull stared her down. “He didn’t want you to know Bull…”

“Know what Boss?” Each of Bull’s words was punctuated with a growl.

Bull had a very creative mind, one that was more than happy to supply all sorts of explanations. Had Bull sat there till he was a hundred however, it would have never supplied the one the Boss eventually did. “Dorian, uhm, he came to me saying that your skin was dry but that lotion didn’t seem to work. We worked out a mix of…”

Bull knew he was still staring, just as he knew the Boss was still speaking. He could see her lips moving. But the only thing he could hear was his own mind repeating Dorian made his horn balm. Not just picked it up but actually made it. From a recipe he had taken time to create with the Boss. His pampered, aloof ‘Vint MADE his horn balm.

Something bounced off his forehead, bringing him out of his own thoughts and he looked down to find a chunk of blackened druffalo sitting in his lap.

“Guess you didn’t bore him to death Quizzy,” Sera chuckled.

Bull didn’t even bother to reply.

His ‘Vint. Made Horn Balm. For him.

No one had ever.

 _His_ ‘Vint.

 

“Hey Boss,” Bull growled.

“Yes Bull.”

“We _really_ need to kill that dragon tomorrow.”

“Uh huh, any reason in particular?”

Only the very best.  He finally knew how he was going to fix things with Dorian. “Yeah Boss. I need a tooth.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not getting this up last night to offset Dorian's POV. Should be back to 2 chapters a day tomorrow, only a few more to go :)


	8. Family Reunions

“Knew he couldn’t be trusted.”

“Surely the Inquisitions doesn’t condone…”

“Magister scum…”

The last comment was accompanied by spit which just missed Dorian’s boot. Any other time the mage would have responded with a fireball but at the moment he was too tired to bother. He’d known bringing the elves back to Skyhold with him still in chains would cause some issues but until he could be certain one of them wasn’t a planted Ben-Hassrath…

“Best get that wagon inside before anyone else sees what you’ve brought back.” Blackwall’s somber voice cut through Dorian’s thoughts as the man held open the barn door.

“It’s not what you think.”

“It never is Tevinter. Guess that smell isn’t what I think either,” Blackwall grunted with a gesture toward the back of the wagon.

“No, unfortunately that one IS what you think,” Dorian admitted, dropping the back of the wagon down and motioning for the elves to climb down. “One of Leliana’s I believe. Don’t suppose you know any Elvish.”

“What do you think Tevinter? Not much use for that in the Hinterlands,” Blackwall admitted, cocking his head toward the rising sounds of a crowd outside the barn. “I’d suggest you find Cullen in a hurry, before this crowd decides…”

“Yes, yes,” Dorian broke in with a wave of his hand. Looking regretfully to the elves huddled now in a corner of the barn, “you’ll look out for them?”

Blackwall’s expression softened. “Aye, they’ll be fine here for now. Can’t say the same for you though.”

 

Cullen’s sigh echoed through the war room, which seemed rather empty with only himself, Leliana and Dorian in attendance. “I suppose waiting to return after nightfall would have been too much to ask.”

“Sorry Commander,” Dorian whispered, genuinely regretful for causing the overworked man more trouble. “I believed it more important to get the information to Leliana. Not to mention I haven’t slept much the last couple of days, not knowing if one of them was going to slit my throat and all.”

“Yes, yes,” Cullen agreed with a sigh. Dorian and Leliana had explained the situation to him, and it’s not that he doubted Dorian’s decision, he was just certain he would be doing paperwork for days as a result. “I had better go disperse the mob.”

“I’ll go with you Commander, I want to…” Leliana’s voice dropped, fading to silence for a moment before she cleared her throat and continued, “to see the body. I believe we can spin this in a positive light, explain that Lord Dorian rescued the elves.”

“I’d like to remind you both that that is exactly what Dorian did,” Dorian grumbled, frustration clear in his voice. “It’s not as if I was actually buying…”

“My apologies Dorian, I didn’t mean to imply,” Leliana soothed. “Still, perhaps you should retire to your room until the situation has been handled.”

“May I assure you my lady, _that_ will not be a hardship,” Dorian agreed, holding the door for the other two before retreating to his room. He felt like he could sleep for a week.

 

Shortest week ever was the first thought through Dorian’s mind when he heard the banging on his door. The second was that the mob had found him. Closing his eyes and relaxing back into bed, Dorian decided he didn’t really care either way.

“Dorian Pavus I know you’re in there!”

Cremisius. Sighing heavily Dorian pulled himself from his bed. He was almost certain Krem wouldn’t be leading a lynch mob. Unlocking his door Dorian had only a split second to rethink that as Krem’s fist slammed into his jaw, causing him to stumble back far enough for the other man to enter the room and slam the door shut again.

Finding himself shoved up against said door Dorian fought to keep Krem’s fingers from closing around his throat.

“Why Pavus? Why would you use my family name in conjunction with SLAVERS?” The last word was spit out with more venom than Dorian had ever heard in the man's voice.

Seeing spots, Dorian finally resorted to zapping the younger man with a small bit of electricity, then quickly dashed across his room, putting several pieces of furniture between himself and the furious Soporati. Thankfully, Krem seemed to have regained some control of himself, though his eyes still spit fire. “How do you know about that?”

“How do I? How do I? What difference does how make Pavus? Did you or did you not reinvent yourself as my brother to buy slaves?” Each sentence was punctuated by Krem’s fist slamming into the door behind him.

“I took your family name to track down a Ben-Hassrath spy,” Dorian clarified, rubbing his throat and feeling the marks he knew would remain for days. “FREEING those elves, one or more of whom may actually be a spy, was an unexpected bonus.”

“You expect me to believe that story?”

“I don’t honestly care what you believe. Go ask Leliana if you wish. Though she’ll probably slit my throat for telling you. Fair warning, she may be even less forgiving of your interference. She’s never struck me as the patient type.”

Krem’s head dropped back against the door with a heavy thud and Dorian could hear him draw a deep breath before his eyes met Dorian’s again. “Seriously, YOU, a spy?”

Dorian’s chest puffed out, pride stung, before deciding he was simply too tired for posturing. Dropping into one of his chairs he waved his hand lazily. “Yes, yes, pampered peacock and all that. To be honest, it is all rather exhausting.”

Closing his eyes and rubbing absently at his jaw Dorian heard rather than saw Krem approach.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Krem muttered, gesturing vaguely in Dorian’s direction as he dropped into the other chair. “The elves told Dalish ‘Ser Dorian Aclassi’ bought them and I’m afraid my vision went a bit red after that.”

“Amazing. And usually you’re such a paragon of patience.”

“Hey, I said I was sorry,” Krem grumbled, stretching out and nudging Dorian’s foot with his boot. “Can’t blame me for being surprised to learn I had a brother.”

“Yes, well, the family reunions will be tedious.” Dorian scoffed, covering a yawn.

“Such a disappointment to mother to find out she bore a mage.”

“I am so good at being a disappointment though,” Dorian whispered almost to himself, his eyes falling shut as he drifted back to sleep.

With a shake of his head as the mage began softly snoring Krem quietly left the room, not certain he’d ever figure that ‘Vint out.

 

In the end Dorian didn’t even get his one night of sleep. Leliana woke him shortly after moonrise with news that the Inquisitor was expected back within two days, leaving him little time to clear Gherlen's Pass ahead of them. With Leliana's promise to look into the daggers left in the Qunari spy, as well as her admonishments to try not to bring the entire population of Verchiel back with him this time, Dorian found himself hustled out of Skyhold in the freezing pre-dawn hours.  Clutching a blanket tightly around his shoulders he tried to convince himself that his cozy nook in the library wouldn’t have been that warm anyway.


	9. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where nothing goes quite as Bull planned.

Normally Bull loved all of the commotion that came with the Inquisitor’s return to Skyhold.  There was just something about the way that, even after all this time, the entire keep turned out to welcome her back that never failed to make Bull feel like he was part of something important.  Something that would be remembered.

Today however, each person is just one more stumbling block between him and the one he has been waiting to get back to.  Never mind that said person isn’t going to be happy to see him.  Bull has planned it all out in his head anyway.  Visualized climbing the stairs to the library, taking his time and soaking in the first view of his lover in almost two weeks.  He knows that look Dorian will get when he notices him, all puffed up like a cat seeing a dog.  Knows how that look will change when Bull lowers himself to kneel at Dorian’s feet, waiting for the mage to quit sputtering and hissing before admitting that he was wrong.  It’s a moment Bull has been imagining ever since he realized Dorian really is _his_.

Which is why he’s so damn confused when he reaches Dorian’s alcove and finds it empty.  Ok, he could work with this.  He knew Dorian wasn’t playing chess with Cullen because the Commander had been in the square to welcome them back.  That left either the ‘Vint’s room, preferable, or the tavern, acceptable.

Except Dorian wasn’t in either location.  Bull did however find his lieutenant.

“Hey Chief!”

“Kreme de la Kreme.  Good to see you.  Seen Dorian around?”

“Uh no Chief, not today.”

Then he’d known something was wrong.  Not that Krem was a bad liar per se but, hey, Ben-Hassrath here.  Pinning Krem with his most intense stare Bull crossed his arms and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Finally Krem dropped eye contact, but didn’t utter a word.  “We’ll talk about this later,” Bull finally growled.

“Yes Chief.”

“Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Skinner and Grim were cleaning gear last I saw, not sure about Rocky but nothing’s exploded recently so we’re good.  Stitches and Dalish are in medical helping the healers with some Elven slaves that got brought in.”

“Say that again?”

“Yeah, well, guess you’d call them refugees now.  Not really sure the story there Chief.  Someone found them a couple days ago and they don’t speak a lick of Common.  They’ve kept Dalish busy translating.”

“Alright Krem.”  Bull drew the words out.  There was something more here, he could feel it.  “Go see if you can find Rocky, it’s never good when he’s quiet too long.  I’m gonna see if I can find the ‘Vint.  The _other_ ‘Vint.”

“Yes Chief.” The words were barely out of Krem’s mouth before he was gone. Yes, something was very, very wrong.

His senses heightened by Krem’s odd behavior Bull noticed several people staring at him as he made his way to the great hall.  Not that people staring was exactly uncommon, he was the only Qunari in Skyhold.  But this felt different, tense somehow.

It only got stranger when Bull entered the great hall and he could start hearing snippets of conversations being had behind masks.

“He is ‘ze one, the Tevinter’s lover.”

“…killed one of them…”

“EVERYONE in Tevinter keeps slaves…”

“…was Blood Magic…”

 

“TINY! There you are,” Varric’s voice boomed out over the crowd, silencing them, as the dwarf stood to greet him.

“Varric,” Bull grumbled cautiously.  “Don’t suppose you know where Dorian is?”

A gasp that echoed through the hall had Varric glaring around the room.  “Now there’s a story…”

“Varric…”

“No, really Tiny.  This one you’re gonna want to hear.” Varric sat back down, gesturing to a chair on the other side of the table.

Bull sat down reluctantly.  This day was just getting stranger.  If he didn’t know better he’d think he was in the fade.  Not enough shit upside down for that though. 

The dwarf grabbed a bottle that had been tucked in with the papers on his table and poured them both a generous shot of whiskey, nudging one toward Bull before starting.  “So, it all started two days ago when your lover tried to get himself lynched.”

“WHAT?”  The growl exploded from Bull as he shot from the chair, both hands slamming down on the table hard enough to tip over the bottle between them.

“Sit down, sit down, your boy’s fine,” Varric grinned, holding his hands up in front of him placatingly before leaning back and kicking one foot up on the table.  “Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Start talking storyteller,” Bull gritted out, settling back onto the chair.

“So, like I said, it all started two days ago.  I was sitting here when Dorian came flying out of the door there,” Varric nodded toward the door behind him, “stomping toward the war room with Cullen in tow.  Couldn’t have been two minutes later our lovely spymaster followed after them.  That’s when I realized I had forgotten to give Josephine the Guild’s latest invoice. Turns out your boy was running some errand for Cullen and came across a couple of slavers. 

“Apparently while the slavers didn’t pose a problem for Sparkler, knowing what to do with their captives did.  Damn fool came riding in here at midday, bunch of Dalish elves chained to a wagon.  Thankfully Blackwall had a bit more sense and sent Dorian to Cullen before the good folk of Skyhold could string him up.”

Bull just sat and stared at the dwarf for several minutes. Of all the damn fool, marginally heroic, absolutely insane…he was going to…he was going to…“Where.  Is.  Dorian.  Varric?”

Varric shivered, the eerie sense of calm radiating from the Qunari somehow worse than anger.  “That’s just it Tiny, far as I know no one has seen him since.”

 

 


	10. Questionable Decisions

Picking his way through the charred remains of the farmhouse Dorian found himself questioning the wisdom of this whole spy business. Yes, he was doing it to save his former lover and yes, it had provided a distraction from the fact that he really wished he hadn’t had to add ‘former’ to that, but no one had said there would be so many bodies.

Technically, Dorian had seen plenty of bodies since joining the Inquisition. He had certainly contributed to the deceased state of many of them.  But this was different, he told himself as he took in the gruesome sight before him. He couldn’t tell if the Qunari had been flayed alive like the other Ben-Hassrath agent because of the burns but what truly bothered Dorian were the smaller remains next to him that could only have been a woman and two children. Venhedis, even in _Tevinter_ it was frowned upon to murder children.

Covering his mouth with the back of his hand Dorian backed away from the bodies. He was prepared to accept that whatever evidence he might have hoped to find had been burned beyond salvage when the sun moved from behind a cloud, the briefest glimmer of something pulling his attention. Forcing himself back toward the Qunari’s remains, Dorian knelt and pried open one mangled hand to see part of a silver button. Though it had half melted into the Qunari’s skin, the outline of a gryphon was still evident.

There was no stopping the shudder that crept down his spine. Parlor games in Qarinus hadn’t prepared him for this sort of blatant, escalatingly violent taunting. And there was no doubt that that was what this was. Everything he’d ever heard of Ben-Hassrath implied subtlety and dark corners, this was a full frontal attack. Directed at Bull.

Pausing for a moment before leaving, Dorian admitted to himself he was way out of his league.

 

 

By the time Dorian had claimed a room in the tavern in Verchiel several hours later, his nerves had settled and his hand was steady as he penned a short missive to Leliana. He reminded himself that simply the act of him being here instead of Bull had changed the game, the question was if it was enough yet to ensure Bull’s safety.

Being unable to answer that question was what had Dorian writing of his decision to continue to Montsimmard rather than returning to Skyhold. Dorian knew that Leliana and the Inquisitor could only keep Bull in the dark for so long, and Dorian was determined to know just what Bull would be walking into when he inevitably answered the challenges the Ben-Hassrath were issuing. All the signs pointed toward the Grey Warden keep there and with no Grey Wardens left in Orlais it should be a simple enough matter to see if it was in fact occupied. Having settled upon a course of action, Dorian headed into town to dispatch the letter

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, please forgive me for this pathetic little chapter that really needed to be here but sooooo refused to flow from my fingers. In apology I am immediately posting the next chapter.


	11. Qunari Don't Purr

Bull woke up with two thoughts. Someone in Skyhold knew where Dorian Pavus had gone and today he was going to figure out who that person was. 

The only question was, where to start. Cullen had been at the top of his list, but Bull had already gone round after round with the man the night before. He had collaborated Varric’s story but insisted he hadn’t seen Dorian since the mage had been sequestered in his room three days earlier. Leliana had been his next stop but conversation with the spymaster had proven…difficult.

The infuriating redhead had, at least, been willing to confirm that Dorian was alive. Something Bull had found himself doubting as the day dragged on, but the only other thing she would admit is that he was not currently in Skyhold. She had had the audacity to imply that Dorian wasn’t his concern any longer and Bull had finally, grudgingly, accepted that neither of them was going to give an inch unless blood was involved. It wasn’t a line he was willing to cross…yet.

Storming down the stairs into the tavern Bull looked towards Krem’s usual chair only to find it empty. Starting to become a habit with his ‘Vints, he thought bitterly before realizing there was actually no one in the tavern. Shit, it must be earlier than he thought.

Running a frustrated hand over his face Bull blew out a deep breath. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d get away with dragging people out of bed to find his wayward lover. Which meant he had some time on his hand. Sleep was out of the question, and Bull had been yelled at more than once for attempting to get some training in on early mornings. It would seem his axe splintering wood wasn’t actually a quiet activity, even once he’d gotten some sound dampening runes from Dagna.

Dagna. Far as he knew that brilliant little dwarf never slept. He’d just have to occupy himself with a different task until the keep woke.

 

They were going to be things of beauty. He could see the pair now, each tooth capped in silverite etched with serpents. The back of each tooth would be slightly hollowed out to hold one of those master runes of dragon-slaying the boss had found the schematics for, framed by two more serpents. Bull could almost see the way the silverite chain would peek out of Dorian’s robes, the tooth resting against his heart…he couldn’t stop the low growl that formed deep in his chest.

Krem’s shield smacked him upside the head, dragging Bull back to the present and the sparring match he had pulled his lieutenant into, as the young man demanded, incredulously, “Are you PURRING Chief?”

Bull could feel the heat on his cheeks even before Krem dropped his shield, surprise flaring in his eyes. “You are aren’t you? Damn Chief, I didn’t know…”

The warrior’s words were cut off as he went flying through the air, landing on his ass in the dirt. “Shut up Cremisius and fight.”

“Naw, I think I’d rather sit right here,” Krem drawled, patting the ground with both hands. “Maybe wait and see if you start _purring_ again.”

“Damn it Krem…”

“Bet the ‘Vint likes it when you do that. I can hear you both now, your purring vying with his snoring…” Krem stopped, seeming to realize what he had said. His lieutenant’s eyes broke contact as he shot to his feet.

Yeah, like that was going to happen. It only took Bull two long strides to catch the younger man, his hand wrapped about the scruff of Krem’s neck. “Just how do you know Dorian snores Krem?”

Bull didn’t have to see Krem’s eyes to know they’d be darting from side to side. He could feel the tension in the other man as he tried to come up with his story. “You’ve teased the ‘Vint about it before Chief.”

“Yeah, no. See, that just happens to be something about the ‘Vint that I like knowing I’m the only one who knows.” Bull shook the Krem gently. “So why am I not the only one who knows Krem?”

Bull released Krem when he felt the man’s muscles relax fully, a tell-tale sign that Krem had decided on the truth. “See, Chief it’s like this. You know that Dorian found those Elven kids the other day right? So when he brought ‘em in Cullen sent for Dalish on account of none of them speaking any Common. Turns out Dorian bought them…”

“WHAT?”

“No, NO. Just no Chief,” Krem clarified, turning to face Bull. “He was on some spy mission for…wait, just let me finish Chief…for Leliana and he told some Ben-Hass…”

Krem broke off again at Bull’s low growl. The Qunari went still as a statue, the tension poured off him in waves. Silence settled between on the pair. Finally Bull blew out the breath he’d been holding before slowly stretching just his fingers out, the knuckles on both hands cracking. He motioned with his fingertips for Krem to continue.

“So, anyway,” Krem began hesitantly. “Dorian didn’t want to give him his own name so he told the guy his name was Aclassi and that he…”

“HE WHAT?”

“THAT’s what I said, right before I decked him. Course…”

“Krem.” The word came out deadly calm.

Krem found he had to swallow twice to get words out of his instantly dry mouth. “Yes, Chief.”

“You’re telling me Dorian used your family name to gain access to a Ben-Hassrath spy?”

For the first time ever Krem found himself just a little bit scared of The Iron Bull. “Uh, yes Chief.”

Bull exploded into motion. “I’m going to…damn fool…all the names in the…can’t believe…my LIEUTINENT’S name…going to kill him…save him…kiss him…then kill him.” Bull muttered, pacing a few steps at a time before spinning and pacing those same steps back the other direction before finally going totally still. One word fell from his lips on a growl. “Leliana.”

 

Bull’s thoughts were muddled as he raced up the stairs toward the rookery. Foremost was that drawing blood was no longer off the table to get Leliana to talk. Followed closely by the thought that he must have heard Krem wrong because he could swear he’d said something about punching Dorian. He stumbled over one of the steps then. Dorian. There was no way he could lose the mage now that he’d finally accepted he wanted him. But Dorian against Ben-Hassrath…

“I see you know,” Leliana’s voice steady, resigned.

“Where is he?”

“As I told you last night, he is well.”

“He isn’t a spy Leliana, how could you?”

“He was motivated, that’s a better start than most,” Leliana shrugged, the careless motion at odds with her next words. “I believe you underestimate him. Lord Dorian has been playing the Game since he could talk. And as you know, they play for much higher stakes in Tevinter. He actually brought in quite a bit of good intel.”

“Fucking Orlais. This isn’t a _game_ Leliana. He used Cremisius’s family name. How long do you think it will take for someone to put that name together with the man who’s been fighting at my side for years?” Bull took little pleasure in watching the spymaster’s face pale. “Now, where is he?”

A slight tremble in her hand the only indication of her distress, Leliana shuffled through the papers on her desk. “Verchiel, he was in Verchiel but he was leaving today for Montsimmard. The Grey Warden keep there. There is a trail through the pass, if you ride hard…”

 

Bull had already headed for the stairs when he paused, not bothering to turn back around. “If something happens to him Leliana…”

“He is doing this for you, you know. He knew that you would not have the correct perspective for this mission.”

“Know one thing Leliana. I protect those I care about and you may consider Dorian Pavus at the top of that list. If something happens to him I do not promise to spare you.”

“You left me a damaged man who has regained his confidence through protecting _you_. Do not threaten me Bull, whatever happens to Dorian leads its way right back to your doorstep.”


	12. Everything

This could have gone better, Dorian thought to himself, as he slammed his barrier back into place just as the elf to his left let an arrow fly. Confident that the shield would hold he whispered the words for a static cage even as the fireball formed in his hand. The screams of pain, the smell of flesh burning, the addition of a new spirit to propel his necromancy all brought a bloodthirsty grin to Dorian’s face as he turned to the next assailant. Yes, it could be better…but it could also be worse.

 

Dorian really had started with the intention to simply verify that the former Grey Warden keep was where the Ben-Hassrath were setting their trap for Bull. Then he had gotten close enough to overhear the pair of sentries left guarding the front gate and his plans had changed in a hurry.  Had they simply been planning on killing Bull Dorian might have been content to contact Leliana and wait for her plan. 

Unfortunately for the Ben-Hassrath stationed inside, Dorian had learned that they were planning on taking Bull alive, returning him to Par Vollen for reeducation. That they would want to make an example of him did not surprise Dorian, but to remove from Bull everything that made him The Iron Bull…no. The mere thought had fire racing through his blood, the keep would run red before he allowed that to happen.

 

“Venhedis!” Dorian growled as he edged through the archway at the top of the keep. The fighting had been sporatic but intense, as the thick trail of blood that ran from Dorian’s temple attested to. He had been a second late getting a barrier up, thankfully the archer in the courtyard had been a poor shot.

Now, it wasn’t so much the six Ben-Hassrath spies that drew the curse from him as much as the dead Qunari crumpled before them. Fasta vass but he had hoped to find one of Bull’s contacts alive. With nothing left to save Dorian was suddenly feeling the effects of each of those skirmishes he fought on his way through the keep.

“Don’t worry Magister,” a familiar voice carried across the room just as Gatt stepped out from behind the other spies. Dorian knew his eyes expressed his surprise, although he managed to school the rest of his face into indifference. Suddenly the reason for the brutality visited on Bull’s contacts made sense. Damn the vindictive elf, the Inquisitor should have killed him when she’d had the chance.

Gatt kicked the dead Qunari once. “This Tal-Vashoth got what he deserved, same as that traitorous lover of yours will.”

Dorian’s bark of laughter was humorless and echoed through the room. “Did you not get the report Gatt? The Iron Bull is nothing to me any longer.”

“Nice try Magister,” Gatt growled, his hands moving toward his hips and the swords Dorian knew he favored. “So I’m supposed to believe you left your pampered nest in Skyhold for nothing?”

“It was hard to give up the peeled grapes,” Dorian’s mused, his fade step occurring at almost the exact same moment Gatt leapt toward where Dorian had been, his twin swords at the ready. Raising a barrier and throwing a static cage Dorian narrowed his field of enemies to four for the moment. Yeah, that whole ‘could be worse’ thing was starting to seem less likely. “But mostly I’m just here because you people are assholes,” Dorian muttered, Gatt’s eyes narrowing in fury.

Palming a lyrium potion gave him the mana to hit one of his attackers with sprit mark then immolate. Dorian refreshed the static cage before turning the newly gained spirit to target one of the remaining men near him. His mana beginning to drop Dorian barely got his barrier back up in time to miss getting stuck in the ribs by the dwarf rogue to his left. Tossing a pathetic fireball her direction he turned his focus back to Gatt then froze as he watched the elf’s head come flying toward him, bouncing off his barrier to land next to the dead Qunari informant.

Dorian blinked twice, almost dropping his staff as he attempted to make sense of what he saw. “Bull?”

“Didn’t really think I’d let you have all the fun did you?” The Iron Bull growled, his voice echoing through the room as his axe cleaved through the Dwarf that had been threatening Dorian. “Besides, I need you alive to ask your question again.” 

“What question would that be you lummox?” Dorian hissed, throwing a barrier over both of them before turning his attention to the elven spy currently bringing a bow up to aim at Bull’s exposed back. A fireball to the face stopped that and provided Dorian with another spirit. “Why you think I have time to practice necromancy and chat at the same time?”

“Now Dorian,” Bull snorted, as he moved through the room toward the human warrior that had been released from Dorian’s static cage. “All that staff twirling never stopped your mouth before. I’d be surprised if you even broke a sweat. No, the other question.”

“Yes, yes, because there is such skill in swinging something the weight of a druffalo and letting it smash into things,” Dorian growled, using flashfire to end his target even as he watched Bull finish off the warrior. They both turned to the remaining human spy. “So you must mean my question about why you insist on wearing those atrocious pants. I swear, I’ve seen that pattern on the walls of a bordello in Minrathous.”

“Ah, so my pants make you think of sex,” the Iron Bull rumbled approvingly, an arc of blood splattering across his chest as he dispatched the last of the spies. Dropping the head of his axe to the ground he turned to look at Dorian with his one good eye. “But maybe I wear them so you have something to complain about. I do enjoy listening to you talk.”

Dorian shuddered, finding himself backing up two steps. It had been awhile since Bull looked at him with that sort of intensity and to be honest, he hadn’t thought it would ever happen again.

Bull took a step toward him, allowing his axe to drop to the ground as he pursued Dorian. “Ask me the question you asked that night Dorian.”

Dorian shivered. It should be a crime the way the Bull said his name. As if everything good and needy and important was caught up in just those three little syllables. Dorian subconsciously continued retreating as the Bull advanced on him until suddenly the wall was at his back. He found his mouth so dry he had to swallow several times just to make it work. “What do YOU want it to be Bull?”

Dorian’s eyes went wide as the Bull stepped into his space, his enormous silver chest heaving against the front of Dorian’s robes, so close that Dorian could see the man’s pulse beating at his throat. Could see his nostrils flare as he drew in Dorian’s scent. Bull’s hand came up, his fingers curling to tuck under Dorian’s chin as he nudged the mage’s face up to look him in the eye. The expression Dorian found there made his legs weak even before Bull whispered, “Everything Dorian. I want it…to be…everything.”

Then his lips were on Dorian’s, warm, insistent and oh so missed as teeth nipped at Dorian’s lower lip, encouraging him to let Bull in. Their tongues met, tangling with one another and Dorian felt Bull’s growl deep in his own chest. Dorian’s hands reached up to grab his lover’s horns, pulling the larger man closer. His legs wrapped around Bull’s waist as the Qunari pinned him to the wall, one hand firm on Dorian’s ass while the thumb of the other gently traced his cheekbone.

Dorian groaned when he felt the press of Bull’s cock against his, only then pulling his mouth away from his lover’s. “Amatus, I would very much like to continue this, but perhaps somewhere with less blood. You know what it does to my robes.”

The Iron Bull laughed, his entire face curling with a smile that, for the first time in forever, actually reached his eye.

“As you wish Kadan,” Bull rumbled, holding tight to the ‘Vint as he bent to collect his axe and slide it into the sheath on his back. Nuzzling Dorian’s ear he growled, “Don’t think you’re off the hook for hiding this from me Kadan. Once we get back to Skyhold you’re not leaving my bed for a week.”

“Heathen,” Dorian whispered, slapping softly at the Bull’s chest but making no further attempt to get away.

“Maybe, but I’m your heathen.”


	13. But Now You'll Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure indulgent feels, not even going to try and deny it.

“Kadan.” The softly spoken word was as much a caress as the hand running a slow path up Dorian’s spine.

“Oh no not again,” Dorian muttered from where he lay sprawled over Bull’s right side, his head pillowed on Bull’s chest. “You’ve killed me already Amatus.”

“That would be a shame since I went to so much trouble to save you.”

Dorian just scoffed. They had been back in Skyhold for three days, and true to Bull’s word they had yet to be seen out of his room. Surprisingly, they had spent a good percentage of the time talking. Bull still wasn’t happy that Dorian gone behind his back to solve a problem Bull hadn’t even been aware he had, but he had grudgingly admitted that if the situation was reversed he _might_ have been tempted to do the same thing. That didn’t mean that Bull had forgiven Krem and the Inquisitor for their part in the deception but he would deal with them later.

In the meantime Bull admitted it was a heady feeling, to know that there was someone in his life who willing do anything to keep him safe. He wasn’t sure that he would ever get over the need to protect what was his, it was doubtful he’d even try, but he would work on accepting that Dorian might feel the same need.

Finally, they had both agreed to employ the same level of honest outside the bedroom that they currently demanded in it. In regards to that honest, Bull had one more secret he needed to come clean about.  Shifting so he could rest his back along the headboard Bull ignored Dorian’s squawk of protest at being disturbed and opened the drawer of his nightstand. “Did I tell you we killed a dragon Kadan?”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Dorian scoffed, just beginning to settle back in along Bull’s thigh when the Qunari pulled him up to sit beside him on the bed, his head tucked into Bull’s shoulder. “I was sleeping there.”

“Couldn’t have been, you weren’t snoring…”

“I don’t snore.”

“Of course not Kadan. Anyway, the dragon. It was magnificent Dorian, purple and copper…”

“If this ends in you telling me we’re getting a dragon skin rug I’m leaving.”

Bull laughed at Dorian’s disgruntled tone before sobering. “I’m telling you that there is a tradition among the Qunari, that when two people mean something to each other they split a dragon tooth, each wearing half so that no matter how far apart life takes them, they know that they are always together.”

By the time Bull finishes speaking he can feel how tense Dorian has gone next to him. Pulling the matching necklaces from the drawer he holds them both in his palm which he rests in Dorian’s lap. For several long moments the room is silent and Bull is just starting to think maybe this wasn’t the best idea when Dorian’s hand slowly moves toward the pendant. His fingers lightly trace the serpents at the top of the piece before trailing down the polished tooth.

Bull is so focused on Dorian’s hand he almost misses the way his lover’s shoulders shake ever so slightly against him. “Dorian?”

Dorian’s hand finally stills. “You did this before. Before you knew…”

Bull’s breath leaves him in a rush of understanding. His arms closing tight around his lover as he whispers, “I did this WHEN I knew Kadan. When I knew I wanted you to be mine.”

He felt moisture hit his arm only a second before Dorian’s hands flew to his face, to rub away any trace of the tears. “I may never forgive you for this,” his lover growled, all illusion of heat removed by the catch in the smaller man’s voice as he spoke.

“Somehow I think you will Kadan.”

“I didn’t dare believe,” Dorian finally whispered, his words so soft Bull wasn’t certain he was actually speaking to him at all. “For so long, it was too painful to hope.”

Bull carefully placed the chain around Dorian’s neck, closing the clasp securely before letting it hang heavily right over his heart. There was no mistaking the emotion in Bull’s voice as he whispered, “Now you will know Kadan.”

“Damn you Bull,” Dorian sniffled, no heat to his words, and Bull found himself having to hide his smile when the mage twisted suddenly in his arms and kissed him hard. When Dorian pulled back his eyes were still wet, but the tears had stopped and he had a soft smile on his face. No words were needed between them as Dorian took the other necklace from Bull and placed it around his neck.

Dorian let the tooth drop, the slight weight a pleasant pull around Bull’s neck as Dorian ran his fingers over the top of Bull’s pendant. “They really are stunning Amatus,” the mage finally said, emotion heavy in his voice.

Bull’s eye dropped to take in the set, Dorian’s looking so large against his copper skin and Bull’s looking decidedly smaller against his own silver chest. He hadn’t anticipated the sense of pride he would feel at wearing it, and at seeing his token on his lover. “They’re perfect Kadan.”

“Bull, are you…purring?’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who has taken the time to follow along with me and the boys on this journey. An added hug and thanks to those who left kudos and comments, they do truly fuel the fire to continue when some chapters become difficult (hello chapter 10...blech).  
> I hope to be back soon with some new adventures for these two...


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